Five Times: Tricked and Treated
by rupzydaisy
Summary: Sherlock doles out tricks and treats in an unbiased and irrespective way. Four times he tricks and treats, and just once, it was done to him.
1. Lestrade

_Hello, yes, I'm addicted, can't help it. A year just waiting for the next episodes is simply tooooo long. Now, this Halloween themed, but again, as you can see I have time issue... So it's up now. Read and review :D _

* * *

-Lestrade-

Treat

Lestrade greeted Sherlock at the entrance, "Thank God you're here." He told the other man as he nodded to the receptionist to buzz them into the building.

"More reasonable to thank the cab driver." Sherlock commented as Lestrade held open the door for the consulting detective to pass through. Sherlock noted that Lestrade looked quite flustered and observed the dark circles under his eyes, the smell of machine coffee on his shirt and his creased jacket.

"How long have you got?" Sherlock asked and Lestrade turned round in the middle of the corridor in surprise. And much to the annoyance of the desk sergeant who nearly walked into him.

"What?"

"Until your superior deems the case unsolvable and it's shelved. I only ask if there is a short time limit, after all the last resort is only called in at the last possible minute." Sherlock elaborated bored with the long walk to Lestrade's desk.

"Oh," He chuckled nervously, "We've got a couple of hours."

"Walk quicker then." Sherlock instructed and the detective sergeant picked up the pace.

Lesrade dumped his jacket on the back of his chair and then promptly sank down into it whilst pulling out the CCTV disc from under piles of paperwork which teetered over his desk. Sherlock stood behind him, tapping his foot impatiently as Lestrade fast forwarded the video to the part which stumped everyone who had seen it.

"There, right there. That's all the evidence we have to go on." Lestrade froze the screen. The image flickered and juddered on the old computer and Sherlock leaned over the detective sergeant who then got up from his chair and offered it to the consulting detective. Sherlock sat down and leaned forwards. He rewound the tape a little, and then played it through, twice.

Then he turned round to face Lestrade who looked back at him, desperately hoping that the consulting detective had found some sort of lead. Surprisingly, Sherlock could look down on someone whilst looking up to face them. Then he just looked bored.  
"This was a waste of a journey." He scowled and Lestrade's face fell.

"No leads then?" He noted disappointedly.

"Leads, what, oh yes, of course there is a lead. You're just too stupid to see." Sherlock stated scathingly.

Lestrade tried to keep calm, he really did, but he only managed to count to four. Sherlock noticed the detective's face turn red and seemed to lose his weariness as he shouted at Sherlock who just stared back impassively, perhaps not even listening at all.

"Sherlock, dammit! I called you in because the case is going to be closed. I could be sacked, no, I will be sacked, everyone's watching and I called you in because you say that you can solve anything. You should be grateful that I called up here anyway; otherwise you'd just sit in your flat bored. And no, we can't have a bored Sherlock now can we. And you call me stupid?" Lestrade ranted and Sherlock blinked twice. Lestrade paused for breath and then realised what he had said.

"Ignore that, I'm tired." He said apologetically.

"You should try decaf." Sherlock quipped and turned back to the screen.

"What's the lead then?"

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, "Well you can see it so clearly, observe the man walking past."

Lestrade watched as a tall man wearing a black hoodie walked across the screen. The hood was pulled up and at no time could they see the face. He wore jeans and was around average height and build. Almost undetectable. In fact, the only thing linking him to the investigation was that he was caught on camera walking away from the crime scene.

"Yeah, I see him."

Sherlock paused the tape, "There, you have it." He mock- congratulated and Lestrade shook his head.

"Sherlock." He warned, and Sherlock sighed heavily again.

"You see, you do not observe!" He pointed to the screen and rewound the tape. "Watch the man walking. Observe his gait."

Lestrade watched. The man walked with a slight limp, leaning slightly to the right to compensate.

"Oh."

"You see."

"Maybe." Sherlock huffed and rummaged through the piles of papers, then opened the middle drawer on the left hand side of the desk.

"The next door neighbour." Sherlock stated pulling out a folder of statements and corresponding pictures of the people who gave them.

"Right..." Lestrade said slowly, "He took his time answering the door. Said that he had bashed his hip. But..."

"It was him." Sherlock stated and Lestrade stood for a moment in shock, then he began to search around for a piece of paper.

"I'll leave you to do the boring paperwork." Sherlock looked at the piles with unconcealed disgust and stood up adjusting his scarf.

"I'll see you outside." Lestrade said as he stopped rummaging around.

"Don't forget your jacket." Sherlock reminded him smoothly, picking it of the chair and handing it to him.

* * *

Tricked

"Right, well thank you." Lestrade said again as he walked Sherlock back down the stairs and outside the station. He always remembered not to leave Sherlock unattended in the station because he had a habit of walking into offices and other departments to inspect the cases, and deduct the staff.

"Next time make sure that the case is interesting." Lestrade nodded his head.

"Thank you Sherlock." He repeated and watched as the consulting detective strode off, waving a hand absently which he had thought was to him, or but turned out to be the cab which had just turned the corner.

Lestrade turned around to walk back into the station. It was now the night-shift with mainly a skeleton staff. The desk sergeant who had almost walked into him earlier had gone off-duty and he rummaged in his jacket pocket for his badge so that he could buzz himself in. His pocket was empty. He checked the other one and then the two inside pockets. His keys were still there, so was his phone and wallet. But his badge and his cigarettes were gone.

Flummoxed as to where they could have gone, Lestrade had to ring up his DI to send someone down to let him in. He wasn't happy about it but once Lestrade had informed him that the case had been solved he sent down another sergeant down. Lestrade finished up and went home happy that his career was still intact. But he didn't deduct that because he had been glued to his desk all day, the only person that could have taken his badge and cigarettes must have been the only person who passed him his jacket earlier on.

* * *

_Hope it's turned out alright... can you deduct who tricks and treats Sherlock? (if not, you'll find out in chapter 5 :D)_


	2. Mycroft

_Hiya, so here's the next one. :D _

* * *

-Mycroft-

Treated

"Mycroft!" His mother yelled from upstairs, "Where is your blue suit?"

Mycroft frowned, the blue suit was used for parties, "In my wardrobe." He called as he walked up the stairs to his room.

"Found it?" Mrs Holmes asked.

"I know where it is."

"Well hand it over, I can iron it ready for Saturday." She said impatiently.

He frowned more. Sherlock popped his head around the corner of his doorway and grinned at him cheekily, "It's Aunt Gladys' birthday party on Saturday." He informed Mycroft, and then grinned wider when he saw his brother scowl. "Nasty old bat isn't she?"

"Now Sherlock what have I told you about calling people names." Their mother scolded as she breezed into Mycroft's room and opened up his wardrobe.

"But I have homework." Mycroft protested, hoping that his mother would realise that he had plans.

"You are a bright boy and a few hours away from your desk won't be disastrous." She told him happily, "Besides, when do you get to see the whole family together?"

Sherlock laughed loudly from his room and Mycroft had to hide a smile too. It was because the only time the whole family got together was due to Aunt Gladys. Because she'd call or drop in and wouldn't leave or hang up until you became desperate and enthusiastically agreed that you'd be there and on time. And after, when you stood at the party and looked on at all your relatives you wondered why you agreed to go in the first place.

"I'll iron it now, you'll look so smart." Their mother said, pleased with herself, "Now, Sherlock, where's your suit."

Sherlock had disappeared into his room and her reply was the door firmly being shut.

"Now Sherlock, I just want the suit." She called. The door opened for a slight second, a hanger with a suit, shirt and jacket was chucked out, and then the door shut again. His mother sighed, "And the tie."

"No tie." Sherlock stated.

Saturday rolled on, Mr and Mrs Holmes left for Aunt Gladys' birthday party, but both Mycroft and Sherlock were left at home.

"No, you're grounded." Mrs Holmes repeated for the twenty second time when Sherlock asked if he could go outside.

"But I'm _bored_." He whined.

"Well you should have thought about that before you decided to experiment on your suit. God knows what your science teacher teaches you." Mr Holmes said shaking his head.

"Oh Mycroft dear, I'm sorry you have to stay back to watch Sherlock. I'll bring you back some cake." Mrs Holmes told her eldest, more responsible son.

"Come on, or we'll be late." Mr Holmes said after checking his watch. They left the house, reminding the kids they wouldn't be back too late.

* * *

Tricked

"Sherlock?" Mycroft called as he made his way up the stairs, Sherlock looked up to see his brother smiling at him, "Thank you."

"Well I'm bored now. At least there would've been matches and alcohol in easy reach at the party." Sherlock dragged his feet as he walked up behind Mycroft.

"But then there's also Aunt Gladys." Mycroft replied and Sherlock nodded his head thoughtfully, deciding that staying at home was the lesser of two evils. "What did you do to your suit?"

Sherlock grinned mischievously, "I was testing how dogs could identify a cat scent and whether a human's would be effective enough to overpower it or not." Sherlock stated.

"And what were the results?" Mycroft asked even though he already knew the answer.

"Not."

Mycroft grinned as he made his way to his room, aware that Sherlock must be extremely bored if he was following him. Mycroft sat down at his desk and pulled out his work folder, debated for a moment, then pulled out his new book from his bag. Sherlock had stopped in the doorway and watched him with wide, expectant eyes. Mycroft glanced at him, curious why he was just standing there, and then opened up the book to the first page.

And as he did, Sherlock leaned forwards to gauge his reaction. Mycroft's face grew stony and he turned to face his younger brother. But he wasn't leaning on the doorframe anymore; instead Mycroft could hear footsteps running away down the corridor. He turned back to his new book, his newly vandalised book with its pages having spatters of chemicals and neatly scalpel cut incisions through the spine leaving only the cover falsely looking perfect.

* * *

_Read and review :D _


	3. Molly

_Hiya, so this one's Molly.  
Any guesses for who tricks Sherlock? At all? _

* * *

-Molly-

Tricked

Molly Hooper walked down the corridor while inspecting her list, there didn't seem to be too much paperwork. Her heels clicked as she walked and she pushed open the door to the morgue and then she stalled.

"Hello... Sherlock." She said after remembering how to speak.

He smiled back at her warmly, "Hello. How is Toby?" He enquired pleasantly as she put down the list on the table. His eyes wandered to the short list of names on it before returning to her face.

"Toby's fine." She replied, "Who are you here to see Sherlock?"

"Mmmm? Oh, Mr Peters. Nasty accident wasn't it?" He said, portraying a gossip perfectly.

"Yes, car accident." She agreed and then when Sherlock threw her a quizzical look she explained. "He's on my list."

Sherlock looked at Molly straight in her brown eyes, she looked back a little flustered as he tilted his head to the side before asking, "Did you...did you do something to your eyes? They look, really, I don't know... different."

Molly blinked twice before finding the words to reply, "No, nothing. Mascara. Nothing."

"Oh, right. I was wondering..." He asked her smoothly and she tucked a strand of loose hair back behind her ear, "If I could take a look at poor Mr Peters?"

"Sure, yeah, I'll just go." She picked up her list and then walked towards the door before turning back to him, "I'll go and wheel him out."

"Thanks." He sing-songed back as she walked out and shut the door behind her. She never did ask if he had the paperwork in order for access to the cadaver, or why the case seemed suspicious. And if she did, he'd probably lie again, because he had been banned from the case.

* * *

Treated

They had both been sitting in silence for the past forty minutes. Sherlock had been studying the microscope slide with unwavering concentration and she had been catching up with paperwork for overtime. The only noise in the room was the clicking sound of the keyboard as she typed. Or it was the only sound until Sherlock broke the silence.

"Take the bribe. I'll tell you what to say and we'll split the money." He instructed in a bored monotone.

"What?" Molly asked confused as to whether the consulting detective was speaking to her or himself.

"Take the bribe." He repeated without looking at her.

Molly was just about ask him to explain what he meant when her phone buzzed. _Unknown number_ flashed up on the screen. With the same confused expression lingering on her face she pressed the green answer button and held up the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" There was silence in the room as she listened to the caller. Sherlock twisted round the magnification on the microscope with a resounding click.

"Uh, yes, I'll just..." Molly agreed with the caller and stood up. "I'll be back in a bit Sherlock." She announced flustered as she hastily exited the lab.

Ten minutes later she walked back down the corridor, a little dazed due to the conversation but a lot happier. If she followed through with what the caller said, and gave the information which Sherlock told her to, then she wouldn't have to work the crazy overtime hours that exhausted her. And she'd be able to pay for Toby's vet bill. He had broken his leg after falling of a branch. To tell the truth, the branch itself had broken once he walked over it. She was going to have to have words with the little old lady a few doors down who kept sneaking him food.

She pushed open the door to the lab, "Sherlock I..." She called but there was no one in the room. The slide had gone from the microscope and the chair had been shoved back quickly before the former occupant had raced off after finding some important piece of evidence.

* * *

_So this one was a little more tricky to write about, I really couldn't think of what to write as Molly's treat... but I got there in the end! :D Reviews anyone? _


	4. Moriarty

_So, it's the next one..._

_And thank you to RAHbooks for your review for ch2, (I forgot before) :D _

* * *

-Moriarty-

Tricked

Moriarty stood and watched Sherlock as his eyes flickered, to the dumped jacket lined with explosives. Now, things had definitely gotten interesting. But he had changed his mind too many times, to leave Sherlock and his little pet, or to stay and watch them die, or to leave again and it had lead him to this...faceoff.

Sherlock spoke, "Then maybe my answer has already crossed yours." The consulting detective stated bluntly and lowered the gun to take aim at the jacket.

Moriarty pursed his lips, they pulled into a thin straight line and he scowled a little. "Oh Sherlock, now, do you think I'd let you do that?" He enquired smoothly, still playing with his voice.

"I don't think you have a choice." Sherlock answered as he cocked the gun.

Moriarty sighed heavily after staring for a long moment at Sherlock's face, "No, I think you're right."

Sherlock still stared at the consulting criminal with cold eyes.

"But just this once." Moriarty said as he turned around and walked out from the swimming pool. John let out a breath he'd been holding and watched as the dancing red sniper dots winked out of existence from Sherlock's face. Sherlock twisted around to look at the ceiling and seem satisfied as he tucked the gun into his jacket pocket before extending a hand to John.

"Alright?" Sherlock repeated.

"He's gone?" John asked as he turned to look where the crazy man had stood.

"For now." Sherlock replied as he pulled out his phone and began to text. "It was logical really. He said so himself. Several times. He has too many _projects_ to make profit and to bet on whether I would shoot or not was chance. He doesn't leave things to chance. All planned, right down to the infinitesimal. And when he changes his mind he plans again. He wasn't going to risk it." Sherlock explained as he paced.

"I thought you were going to shoot it." John said looking up at Sherlock who stared jacket still lying on the wet floor.

"But this time, he didn't know, he wouldn't risk it, not for this. I was unpredictable." He said triumphantly and grinned at John who took in another deep breath before shooting a nervous glance at the explosive jacket.

"Yeah, I could've told you that. You can't really predict a head in the fridge." His flatmate replied before chuckling as they walked out of the swimming pool. They could hear the sirens of the police approaching as they exited the building.

* * *

Treated

The pink phone had resided next to the skull for the past two weeks. Occasionally it was given a nervous glance from John who had hoped it wouldn't ring again. Sometimes Sherlock looked at it hopefully when there was a brief interlude in the acts of the criminal classes. But nevertheless, for two weeks it had sat next to the skull who had watched over it with empty eyes.

So it was a surprise when Sherlock came back one evening after strolling out two mornings before promising John he'd bring back milk and bread. John sat in his armchair watching EastEnders. It was even more of a surprise when the consulting detective plucked the pink phone off the mantelpiece and held it in his hand expectantly.

"So where did you disappear off to?" John asked, wondering if he'd get a proper answer.

"Strasbourg." Sherlock explained fully and completely with the one word. John was about to ask him a question which would divulge more information as to why Sherlock would go to France for milk and bread but was interrupted by the pink phone ringing.

Immediately Sherlock swept his finger over the touch screen and pressed the phone up to his ear.

"Hello." He began a conversation with, as John guessed, the psychopath consulting criminal.

"No, not at all."

"Yes, it is."

"I don't think I will."

"I don't think you will either."

"I'm sure...catch you later." Sherlock finished and hung up the phone.

Moriarty removed the phone from his ear and looked at it before pocketing it. He then smiled at no one in particular. It seemed as though Sherlock was going to play along with this little game. And he was going to play properly this time. How delicious, the consulting detective chasing the consulting criminal all over London and the world. This time he would have a plan, and stick to it. And it certainly wouldn't be boring.

* * *

_Reviews anyone? Guess for the next chapter? Hmmm but I may be being a little sneaky though... :D_


	5. Sherlock

_Hiya, so. Sherlock's gonna be tricked... and treated!_

_Wow, I can't believe I wrote all this in less than a week ! _

_Thanks to RAHbooks, lackadaisicallyours and J. Moriarty and for your reviews and to anyone who reviews after this story is done. _

_And to J. Moriarty because I can't message you; thanks for the grammar lesson and good try for guessing, but it's really not. :D hope you're not disappointed with this: _

* * *

-Sherlock-

Tricked

Sherlock and John walked into the living room after eating dinner out.

"And you really found the will?" John asked a little amazed.

"I was bored." Sherlock replied, irritated that there had been no murders in the past two days. He took off his scarf and coat and threw then over the side of the sofa. John sat down in his armchair and reached for the TV, but noticed that Sherlock had paused mid step towards the sofa.

"Something's different." The consulting detective whispered and his eyes travelled from one side of the room to the other, checking over everything from the pile of papers which were stacked precariously on the side of the windowsill to the beakers filled with chemicals on the dining table.

"What's wrong?" John asked as Sherlock quickly strode over to the fireplace and stuck his hand up inside the chimney and began removing bricks.

"Someone has been here," he muttered as he pulled out a small metal safe from the fireplace and began to key in the code which opened the lock. "It's gone," he stated. His eyes were wide with shock, something which John rarely saw.

"What, the memory stick?" John asked walking over.

"How?" Sherlock just turned and stared at him. "Oh!" He stood up and twisted the small safe in his hands, inspecting each side of it closely.

"Professional," he noted and scowled again, and John realised why.

_Sherlock hadn't deducted or even assumed that someone would come looking for the memory stick. And even though it was in the safe, it wasn't actually safe. If he had known, he'd have moved it, or something. The rest of the flat hadn't been touched, that someone had taken care not to leave any trace. Like a ghost._

"Any idea on who stole it?" John asked as Sherlock began to examine the front door lock and then watched as he opened and then shut the windows.

"There are several. But any competent thief looking for some extra cash could have been brought in to steal it once they knew of the price of the information on the memory stick," he mused blankly as he looked down on the safe which now sat out in the open on the sofa. Then he exhaled loudly.

"But...they would know that _we_ stole it in the first place?" John said slowly.

"Well done John." Sherlock replied condescendingly, "But it's too late now." He continued looking at his watch, "The thief and the memory stick are both out of the country." He tilted his head in thought and picked up the empty safe, then walked over and dumped it on the table before sitting down on a chair in front of it. John still stood, unsure of what had happened and wondered what he should say. Mainly wary of something that he might say which would make Sherlock even more stroppy.

He decided for a safe option. "Sherlock?"

"Mmmm?" The consulting detective replied, still staring at the safe. "Yes, tea." He replied curtly and John nodded, paused for a moment, then walked off to the kitchen and started to look for the teabags. Sherlock just sat and stared at the empty safe. Someone, had outsmarted him and he smiled a tiny smile before it dropped away and a look of pure concentration glinted in his eyes as he continued to stare at the empty safe.

* * *

Treated

The next morning John was in a rush. He had overslept, straight through his alarm and Sherlock, who looked like he had been awake the whole night, hadn't bothered to wake him up even though he would have deduced it.

"Shoes, shoes, where are my shoes?" he mumbled to himself, searching through stuff. "Sherlock have you seen my shoes, the brown ones?"

"No." Sherlock said, he didn't even turn his head to look at a very flustered John who shot him a brief glare before continuing the search.

"You could have woken me up," he told his flatmate.

"You were your room." Sherlock replied dryly, as though it were obvious.

"Found you!" John said with relief as he saw the front of his shoes hidden underneath Sherlock's dumped suitcase. He checked his watch again, "Oh, shit," he said before speedily retreating out the door while patting down his pockets.

"Phone, phone, Sherlock?" And the consulting detective threw John's phone at him without a second glance. John sighed at him and ran down the stairs while hefting his bag onto his shoulder.

He nearly knocked over Mrs Hudson who was making her way up the stairs holding a very large and very expensive looking bouquet of flowers.

"Hello dear," she said smiling at him.

"Can't stop, sorry!" John shouted as he raced to the door.

"Have a nice day," she called back as the front door slammed shut.

"Was he running a little late? My husband was always running late, all the time." Mrs Hudson said as she walked into their living room. Sherlock still lay sprawled on the sofa.

"Oh, what a mess Sherlock." And he twisted away so that he faced the back of the sofa in reply. "These came just now. Very nice, lovely colour," she continued and Sherlock twisted round so that he could see what she was talking about.

"Leave them on the side; John can put them away later," he instructed.

She paused and turned to face him, smiling widely. "Would you like the card?"

"Why would I want John's card?" Sherlock asked tersely.

"But it's your card; they came for you Sherlock, just now." Sherlock went from laying on the sofa to standing up in one fluid movement. He towered over the little landlady.

"Oh look, they're so pretty. Now, I'll go get you a vase. Just this once dear, I'm your landlady. Not your housekeeper." Mrs Hudson handed over the card and hurried of downstairs to find a spare vase.

He inspected the paper, it was stiff white card, embossed border and the writing was written in elegant scrawl. The flowers themselves were dark red roses and they were wrapped in coloured plastic. Not very useful, there were hundreds of flower shops and the roses were seen as ordinary flowers. Anyone could have sent them to him. But it wasn't just anyone, he could tell from the message on the card.

_Thank you for the present._

_Adler x _

* * *

_So, Adler is a character from the books by Arthur Doyle, in 'A Scandal in Bohemia', so I may be stepping out of cannon at this moment in time, but... if you think really hard about it... I'm assuming that the writers of the lovely Sherlock TV series will be adding her in at some time... maybe... I hope... _

Reviews anyone? :D


End file.
